A Night to Remember -part 6
Night after night, in all weathers, station personnel waved farewell to their crews as they stand over the FIDO fog dispersal pipeline alongside the runway. Their bicycles are leaning on the trolley-acc kept handy for an emergency engine start. Note the Wellington boots which were standard wear for Ludford’s ground crews as they paddled through the sticky Lincolnshire clay. No wonder the newly-built airfield was swiftly christened RAF Mudford.
THE usual group of well-wishers are gathered by the signals hut at the end of the runway. All ranks, officers, airmen and WAAFs, all with friends and loved ones taking off into the evening sky, perhaps never to be seen again. An experience that could be shattering in any normal times, but they have all learnt to steel themselves and put on a cheerful smile and a wave to give us confidence, and they repeat this performance night after night.
Pre-takeoff checks done, we roll heavily forward to the hold position straighten and line up with the runway, brakes on. The cockpit is flooded with a green light from the Aldis lamp as the signals hut gives us the OK to takeoff. “OK chaps, here we go!”
Brakes off, left hand on the control column, feet on the rudder pedals as the four big throttle levers in my right hand are eased forward leading with the left engines to counteract the swing, keep her straight with the runway, the deep-throated roar envelops us. A bit of right rudder, that‘s it. Ease the stick forward, get the tail up, that’s it! The rudder is beginning to respond now, keep her straight, that’s it! Throttles go forward, “Full power!”
The flight engineer takes over the throttles and holds them fully forward, “full power skip”. Both hands on the control column now, keep her straight, the aircraft is throbbing, the roar from the four engines is deafening. Airspeed is building, 60, 80, 90mph is called out by the flight engineer. The runway roars past but the massive weight of 2000 gallons of fuel and six tons of bombs makes itself felt through the controls and the end of the runway gets nearer and nearer. If one engine fails now we shall run off the end and the whole lot will blow up and leave a nasty big hole in the ground.
“One hundred, 110, 115, 120 mph” calls the flight engineer, gently ease back on the control column and all the rumbling and shaking stops and we are airborne, just in time to see the end of the runway slide away underneath. “Airborne 21.34 hrs navigator” -- “ 21.34 hrs skip”.
Phew! Our L-Love would have made a better job of it than that! A touch on the brakes to stop the wheels spinning and “Undercarriage up.” “Undercarriage up” responds the flight engineer as he lifts the safety bolt and raises the lever beside my seat. The heavy aircraft begins to slowly gain speed and height. Three hundred feet and the familiar trees and village houses slip away underneath, the upturned faces of village friends wishing us a safe return.
“Flaps up to 10 degrees” and she gains a bit more speed, “OK flaps all the way up”, “Flaps right up skip”. Trim nose up, at last she seems to be flying as the airspeed builds to our climbing speed of 175 mph. One thousand feet, reduce power to 2850, +9. “2850, +9 skip” and we slowly turn onto our heading 135 for Skegness. “Pilot to navigator on 135 compass”, “OK skip, ETA Skegness at 41”